


Runner's Low: A Mass Effect: Andromeda Short Story

by panda_reads



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Other, SAM is a good AI friend to have, Scott Ryder has poor coping skills, everyone worries, mentions of past trauma, post-death trauma, spoilers for entire game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 20:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_reads/pseuds/panda_reads
Summary: Andromeda has been hell from the start. Waking up was the easy part, and he thought almost losing Sara and his father dying to save him would be the hardest elements. Instead, between the truth about his mother and her current status in the Hyperion cryo bay, his sister’s second near-death experience and recovery, his own traumatic deaths, the insanity of Meridian and what the Archon did to him and his sister, and the agony of losing and regaining SAM, he’s had just about as much as a human can take before resorting to homicide or psychosis.Not being particularly interested in either, he runs, even though he’s been told the Nexus is not built for running.





	Runner's Low: A Mass Effect: Andromeda Short Story

 

* * *

 

 

_Disclaimer: All character names, locations and plot elements are the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts (EA) Games. ‘Mass Effect’ and all related characters are the sole property of these entities. This is a fan-written fiction._

 

* * *

 

The Nexus isn’t built for running. That does not stop Scott Ryder, who is running at a furious 8:30 pace through whatever corridors and tunnels he can find, tangled emotions in each step.

He’s not been sleeping the past few weeks, not like he needs to. A few restless hours, sometimes twenty-minute catnaps in Peebee’s pod, that’s all he can find the time for. He finds her presence soothing, even when she’s tinkering, adjusting, and fiddling with her rem-tech or POC. Her constant chatter is calming to him, and yet, even with her, even when he’s curled up in the corner of her pod, his brain will not stop operating for those few crucial moments of sleep.

He’s aware of his body and mind at all times, the slightly inconsistency can take him from a perfectly stable mood to something unpredictable. Back in the old days, on the Citadel, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d run on the Presidium. A few of the C-sec guards used to shout encouragements, back when he was a skinny kid, before he joined the Alliance, before Alec Ryder’s blacklisting, before the dashed hopes of a career, before the uncertain period on Earth, before Ellen Ryder’s death...

_Before Andromeda, and the Archon, and Meridian and almost losing Sara again and… everything._

He runs on the Nexus. It’s become a normal routine, each time they are docked. He needs it, needs the feeling of stand-in pavement under his feet – he hasn’t run on real pavement is over 600 years, but, who’s counting – even if everyone else thinks he’s crazy for doing it.

When he asks if anyone is interested in joining him, the responses vary.

Cora tells him, there’s a treadmill in your quarters. _“Get a run in while you look at space. Lots of people would kill for that view.”_ She prefers gardening to cardio. Scott wishes he had something he was anywhere near as interested in.

Liam’s face twists into the universal expression of _are-you-fucking-kidding-me_ when Scott asks. _“You run. For fun? Like, you don’t get enough chaos in your everyday life? So, you run?_ For fun?” Liam prefers beer, babbling, and bonding to anything else. Scott envies his ability to find meaning in attachments.

Drax considers the offer for a few moments, before rumbling, _“Kid, I am too old and fat to keep up with you today, but, next time._ ” At least he sounds serious.

Jaal is fascinated by the invitation. _“Humans run for enjoyment, yes, I’d read about that. Endorphin release, the ‘runner’s high’ I believe you call it.”_ He tilts his head. _“I would like to see what your brain looks like under those conditions. Your heart as well. I can only imagine what willing stress of this intensity does to a human body. Angara are adapted to such stressors, but humans…”_ He trails off, musing about dissection.

Scott actively avoids Jaal’s gaze, before mumbling, “I’ll go ask Suvi.”

Suvi has figures to run, she’d love some help, but oh, _that_ kind of running. No, she doesn’t do that, but she’ll have a cup of tea waiting when he gets back. That’s kind of her, but he’d really prefer some company, they don’t even have to talk. She shakes her head no, but promises the tea will be waiting.

He checks in with Peebee, asks the question, and she stares at him. _“You’re sure? You could run in your room, and I can talk to you, and… I mean, that would be better, wouldn’t it?”_ She sounds sad, and he can’t quite figure out why. He shrugs, turns his back, and tries the pilot.

Kallo says the _Tempest_ would be lonely without him. Scott knows he really means ‘Gil is tinkering again.’

Speaking of the engineer, Gil says while he’s been known to enjoy the sweaty results, no, he does not ‘work out’, and he flexes his fingers in air quotes while he says it, which just touches the last nerve the Pathfinder has.

So, he runs angry _and_ stressed.

Gil’s flippant, it’s just his way, he doesn’t mean any harm, but there is enough real mockery in his tone to touch off Scott’s, at this point, well-honed rage reflex. Combined with everything else on his mind, his fuse has become quite short, and, instead of taking it out on his engineer, he takes out the anger on himself.

Andromeda has been hell from the start. Waking up was the easy part, and he thought almost losing Sara and his father dying to save him would be the hardest elements. Instead, between the truth about his mother and her current status in the _Hyperion_ cryo bay, his sister’s second near-death experience and recovery, his own traumatic deaths, the insanity of Meridian and what the Archon did to him and his sister, and the agony of losing and regaining SAM, he’s had just about as much as a human can take before resorting to homicide or psychosis.

Not being particularly interested in either, he runs, even though he’s been told the Nexus is not built for running.

Scott Ryder, being right out of fucks to give, vaults over a container that a maintenance worker has insisted on leaving in his path, and continues. He is dead set on maintaining his pace, and his mood is an excellent motivator. Anger, stress, grim acceptance of whatever-the-hell his father’s crazy AI research led to, conflict over his mother’s status, ping-ponging between elation that Sara was alive, and horror at what had been done to her, the violation and manipulation of her mind.

Woe unto anyone who gets in his way on this run. He might actually lose his temper.

No one’s bothered him, which is a plus. Kandros has a standard rule in place that if Pathfinder Ryder is running through the station, alone, and is not armed, then leave him be, and do not, under penalty of shouting – _and possible electric shock, remember, the man knows his tech, and he is not afraid to use it_ – interrupt.

He clears the length of the main station – 5 kilometers; he used to run twice that every morning on Earth, because it was easier than dealing with his father’s volatile moods regarding his AI research, his sister’s constant worry about the family, and his mother’s quiet acceptance of her fate – and is assessing his options on the sub levels, when his earpiece crackles: _“Scott. Are you really running around the Nexus like a madman?”_

He groans, and says, “Lexi. Busy. Later.”

_“Or you could listen while I talk.”_

“Fine.”

He takes off, looks at his watch – his pace is creeping up to 9:00, and he is having _none_ of that this morning – and he forces his legs to move faster.

 _“I have a laundry list of things I think are bothering you,”_ Lexi says in his ear, _“and I’ll bet I could get SAM to confirm them.”_

“Do it then.”

_“I’d rather hear it from you. You’re going to tear yourself up with that pace.”_

“Spying?” he manages, because if he can form complete sentences, then he’s not pushing himself hard enough.

 _“Monitoring,”_ she says. _“It’s only reasonable.”_

He chuffs a laugh, but doesn’t respond.

_“I can always ask SAM to monitor you, instead, and we can talk about you like you aren’t even there.”_

“You,” Scott says, catching a breath, “do that anyway.” He rounds a corner, nearly collides with a turian, scrambles to the side, manages to keep upright by pivoting off the damn wall, and carries on his path. The turian shouts something obscene at his back, and he responds by diving into a maintenance area he hasn’t seen before, because it’s dark and there’s no one around.

 _“Really?”_ Lexi murmurs in his ear. _“You’re running in the dark now?”_

“’S’fine.”

_“It’s not safe.”_

Track lighting at his feet blooms faintly as he crosses it, and the path illuminates farther down the tunnel. He keeps running.

_“Scott. Talk to me. Please.”_

He keeps running.

Lexi’s sigh echoes in his ears. _“Scott. I know at least one other person who’s worried about you, and if she’s talking to me willingly, then something is_ definitely _wrong.”_

 _Peebee_.

The thought distracts him, and he crashes into a stack of crates, taking three of them with him, tumbling down a stairwell. His body lands solidly on the ground, his head cracks off a crate edge. Dazed, he can hear Lexi’s panicked voice – _“Scott! Are you all right? What happened? Scott?”_ – and woozily sits up.

“Fine,” he mumbles, and wishes there was better light. He feels a tender spot on his head, prods it for a moment, and doesn’t feel blood on his fingers. He groans, relieved.

_“Scott? SAM?”_

_[ Initiating scan, Dr. T’Perro ]_

He shivers as SAM’s voice echoes in his head. “I’m fine,” he says again.

_[ Initial scans suggest that is not entirely true ]_

“Just a bump,” he says.

_[ As you say. I will monitor your vital signs, as Dr. T’Perro is not here ]_

Scott stands up, balances against the wall.

 _“Scott?”_ Lexi again.

He exhales. “It’s just a bump,” he says. “I’m fine. Please don’t shout.” He stiffly walks up the stairs, checks the track lighting, and picks up his pace again.

Lexi makes a protesting sound in his ear. _“Are you serious?”_

“Very,” he huffs.

She sighs. _“You know, Alec once told me you were the masochist of the family.”_

He snorts, following the tunnel.

_“When you were sixteen, living on the Citadel, he told me a story about how you and he had an argument, and you took off out the door. He said Sara called you constantly for an hour, but you never responded, and it wasn’t until evening when a C-Sec friend of his reported you running in the Wards. How many miles did you run that day, Scott?”_

He remembers that day. They’d had an argument, a foolish one, something about school and how Sara’s grades were slightly above his, and Alec expected both of his children to perform at top marks, without question. _One measly tenth of a point_ , Scott remembers. _One tenth, and it was the end of the world._

“Marathon,” he responds. “Twenty-six. Point two.”

_“Why are you running like this, Scott?”_

“Pain helps,” he says. He squints, sees an exit sign ahead, slides through the door, keeps running. The maintenance tunnels go on forever, the light improves, and he feels almost free. He could follow the tunnels to their end, and back, and that, that would be one thing he could control.

 _“Pain isn’t something you’re supposed to pursue.”_ She sounds baffled.

“Helps,” he says again, pausing just long enough to realize he’s on a catwalk, and there’s a separate tunnel below. He clears the catwalk, lands heavily on the walkway below, and keeps going. His footsteps are his only companion.

_“If you tear yourself up, Scott, you won’t help anyone.”_

He says, loudly, “SAM? Shut the comms off.”

 _“Scott,”_ Lexi warns.

_[ Shutting comms off, Pathfinder ]_

The earpiece goes silent.

He exhales. SAM is silent, and there are no other voices in his head. His breath is relief; his body is his to command, control, and use. The station is his to explore, to conquer with his feet, and he needs to _feel_ it. He can’t feel the pain, the stress, yet, and until he reaches that point, it won’t be enough. It will just be rage, frustration, and an enormous mess.

 _I can control my own body. No one can take it away from me. No one can take_ me _away from me_.

He remembers those moments, when the Archon held them all captive, when SAM stopped his heart to free him, those few moments when SAM was in control, not him, and he feels a sudden urge to scream.

_I am in control of me. No. One. Else._

_[ Pathfinder? Your heartrate is elevated, and your stress levels are rising. It is unwise to continue this path. Dr. T’Perro’s advice is worth listening to ]_

He growls a curse – “SAM? Shut the _fuck_ up” – and runs. The AI is silent, and all Scott is left with are his thoughts, the pounding of his feet, and the sweat drenching his skin.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was truly alone and he welcomes it.

 

* * *

 

Lexi T’Perro throws her hands up as she watches the live-feed of the Pathfinder’s vital signs on her computer. It’s absurd, what that man puts his body through. He barely sleeps, eats when reminded to do so, drinks enough coffee to sustain a small army, and encounters dangerous, life-threatening situations on a near-daily basis. Anyone else would understand downtime as a process by which the body and mind can recover from stress, but not Scott Ryder, who thrives on chaos, and is, in Lexi’s professional opinion, borderline insane.

“He’s stubborn,” Peebee says, startling Lexi out of her frustration.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

Peebee shrugs. “I heard you talking to him.”

“When?”

“Just now. I was monitoring his radio. He shut it off.”

“He hung up on me.” Lexi hopes she doesn’t sound as put-out as she feels.

The other asari nods. “You pushed too hard.”

“It’s my job to make sure he’s fit for duty.”

“Has he done anything to make you think he isn’t?”

Lexi points to her computer. “He’s going to destroy his knees maintaining that pace, and quite probably give himself a heart attack.” She’s exaggerating that last bit, but it feels good to say.

Peebee squints. “That’s a myth.”

“What?”

“Runners and their knees. It’s a myth.”

“And you would know this how?”

Peebee shrugs again. “When I found out he likes to run, I decided to do some reading. Humans are weird; they run for fun, for stress relief, to ease depression. A lot of them do it for any reason other than fitness. Humans are weird.”

Lexi, fascinated by this sudden turn in the conversation and encouraged by Peebee’s openness, asks, “And why do you think Scott runs?”

Peebee folds her arms. “It’s obvious: he’s scared, and he lost control.”

Lexi frowns. Despite her needling, Scott Ryder is in top form in the field. He is always at his best; he accepts nothing less from himself. “When did he lose control? He’s always focused, he’s on task, he—“

“No, no,” Peebee says, shaking her head. “On the Archon’s ship, when he caught us in that field. When Scott had to let SAM stop his heart? He lost control. SAM took over. Scott died.” Peebee suddenly stops, and Lexi notices her trembling lips. “He died,” she says softly. “And then it happened again, when the Archon took SAM and, and…” She shivers. “He’s running because he’s scared, and he’s got SAM in his head, but now he knows what SAM can do, and how closely he and SAM are bound, and that’s pretty terrifying, isn’t it?”

Lexi nods She’s admonished both the Pathfinder and SAM for the liberties taken with Scott Ryder’s body. Since settling Meridian, she hasn’t had to chide him as much, but, Scott is the most hardheaded human she’s ever met.

“So,” Peebee says, “he’s afraid, and everyone’s asking him to not be.”

Lexi sits back in her chair. “Will you talk with him?” she asks. She glances at the computer, watches Ryder’s heartrate jumping all over the place. “Idiot man,” she mutters. “He’ll kill himself at that pace.”

Peebee looks over her shoulder. Lexi represses a shiver at how quickly Peebee moves when she wants to, but quickly turns her attention back to Scott’s feed. “Thoughts?” Lexi asks.

“He’s in trouble,” Peebee says, does not elaborate further, and leaves the med-bay, a good clip in her pace.

Lexi throws her hands up again. “SAM?” she calls to the AI, hoping it’s awake and aware. “SAM? Where the hell is Scott?”

_[ I am sorry, Dr. T’Perro, but Scott silenced his link with me ]_

“He did _what?_ ”

_[ He asked that I be silent ]_

“I’ll just bet he did,” Lexi grumbles. “Where is he, SAM? Peebee mentioned he was in trouble.”

SAM says nothing, which Lexi recognizes as the AI weighing the option of responding.

“SAM?” she asks, her tone carrying a slight warning. “I need you to be extremely honest with me, now.”

_[ I took his request to mean he wished to be alone and I am respecting his wishes. Scott is… enjoying his run, Dr. T’Perro ]_

“And I know you’re lying to me, SAM.”

The AI states, far too matter of fact  in tone: _[ I detect abnormal neural waves in the Pathfinder’s brain ]_

“So, you’re still tapped into his physiological feed.”

_[ I defer to your medical expertise, Doctor ]_

Lexi looks at her monitor. The AI isn’t kidding: Scott Ryder’s brain waves are going haywire, and his heartrate is following.

“Oh, marvelous,” Lexi mutters, “he’s going to have a seizure.”

She strides out of the med-bay, scrambles up the ladder to the bridge, and braces to hammer her fist against Peebee’s pod for help, but Suvi is already there. “She just left,” Suvi says, shaking her head. “Something about Scott in trouble? Made no sense to me.”

Lexi purses her lips, weighs her own options. “I’m heading out onto the station,” she tells Suvi. “If you hear from Peebee or Scott, please call me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peebee follows the maintenance tunnel. She’s been following Ryder’s progress throughout the station; she knows where he is, and isn’t surprised at all that he’s ended up somewhere far, far away from what passes for civilization. That he’s gone this deep into the tunnels is a bit surprising, because it’s risky, and while that wouldn’t stop either of them, it’s out of character for him, especially with his responsibilities.

She scans for his signature, can’t find it. “Where’d you go?” she mutters. She’ll find him. She needs to find him.

She listens for footsteps, a particular rhythm, something that can guide her to him.

He’s the only one who’s really listened to her, to the things that fascinate her, the technology and the potential. He toys around with tech, likes to build things, but there’s a spark in his eyes whenever she shows him new rem-tech, and what she thinks it can do. He likes to take things apart, figure out how they work. It’s part of the reason she found him so intriguing.

He’s curious, he likes to follow paths to their end, he wants answers to all of the mysteries that surround him.

His curiosity, his embrace of the unknown, the carefree smile he reserves just for her. That’s why she loves him.

His inability to sleep, to hold still for long periods of time, or those few nights when she finds him running on the treadmill in his quarters, with sound barriers around it so he won’t wake her, when he runs until he’s exhausted and shaking? That’s why she worries about him.

She taps her comm. “Hey,” she says, “I know you’re around here somewhere. Are you okay?”

She doesn’t expect a response.

She strolls along a catwalk, programs her scanner to find his footsteps. They’re firm, imprinted in the metal, carrying traces of the planets they’ve been on. No one else has Eos’ dust, Havarl’s pollen, or Kadara’s slight toxicity on their shoes.

_No one but us. No one but you._

She sees the shoe prints leading to a lower tunnel, sees hand imprints on the railing – _Voeld’s icy minerals, Elaaden’s sand and rust_ – and follows, dropping down to find the trace of footprints.

She keys her comm. “Hey, SAM? You live?”

_[ I am ]_

“Any insight into our escapee?”

_[ He has silenced our communication for the time being ]_

Peebee sighs. She tries a different channel. “Hey,” she says again. “Can you talk to me please?”

Still no response, so she follows the footprints.

_[ Pelassaria? ]_

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, SAM?”

_[ Dr. T’Perro expressed concern regarding a seizure ]_

“Please don’t tell me he’s having one for real.”

_[ No. Scott silenced our communication, but I can still access his physiology. He is running, his heartrate and breathing are elevated, but I can confirm that he starting to ‘hit the wall’ ]_

“Hit the wall?”

_[ A term he taught me: a sudden loss of energy or fatigue from activity ]_

“He ate before he started running, didn’t he?”

_[ He consumed coffee ]_

“That is not food.” She sighs, and says, “Good thing Initiative leadership doesn’t know about this; they’d tell you to stop him.”

_[ I would not do that, Pelassaria, no matter the requestor. Scott would never forgive me ]_

The AI is not wrong about that. “Where _are_ you?” she asks aloud.

_[ This tunnel is not as long as Scott believes ]_

“Oh yeah?”

_[ It is one kilometer. He believes it is closer to three ]_

“Great. So, he’s not only tired, but he’s going to literally hit a wall.”

_[ Possibly ]_

“Oh good.” Peebee looks from right to left. “Do I get a hint about which way he went?”

_[ I suggest listening ]_

She does, hears the hum of the station, distantly hears the _tmp tmp tmp_ of footsteps. _Eenie, meenie, miney, mo…_ Left it is. She starts to walk. She only runs when bullets are flying, and, if the tunnel is as short as SAM says, she’ll find Scott soon enough.

 

* * *

 

Scott can hear their conversation over Peebee’s open channel, and resists the urge to say something – _I’m fine, please don’t look for me, I’m fine, just go back to the_ Tempest, _I need five minutes with my own damn thoughts and my own head and nobody else in here, just me and my body and my brain and_ nobody else in here.

Instead he grudgingly admits the AI isn’t wrong about him hitting the wall, though he knows his own body well enough to know that it’s too soon for him to experience it. _Back on the Citadel, hell, back on Earth, I could go for hours._

His breathing hurts, his feet ache, his chest feels tight. His legs fight him with each step, like he’s lead from the knees down. He struggles, runs sluggishly, one hand reaching for the wall to steady him – _just like on the Remnant city, when the Archon took SAM, ripped him away from me._

He stumbles, feels like he’s going to vomit. That memory, that single experience, is worse than most anything he can remember. He _felt_ his physical self dying, fading away, as he walked, and it was only through sheer luck, through Sara and SAM teaming up, that he survived, and even then, it was pain and fear, and that he can’t begin to explain to anyone.

 _Not even Peebee_.

He feels shame that he can’t share what it was like, to slip away from his physical shell, to fall into darkness, can’t tell her how it was almost like melding with her, but it didn’t feel safe or warm. _It was just void, agony and terror._

_“Hey. Can you talk to me please?”_

He jerks his head, the echoing voice a distant reminder that he is alone.

He gags, feels like either his stomach or his head are going to yield to the nausea and the stress first. Neither does, and he groans, frustrated, hurting, a soul-deep ache that he can’t name. He needs to stop, needs to rest, but he’s his father’s son, and too damn stubborn.

_I can run this out. I’ve done it before._

His head pulses, and he looks for a new path. There isn’t one, just a wall, and he is coherent enough to recognize _dead end_ and a catwalk above him, before he reaches his shaking hands out to drag his uncooperative body up a ladder and onto the platform.

He grips the railing, his knees buckling.

He can’t do this alone, living or acting or leading or Pathfinding.

His pride and his spirit are in it, but he can no longer function solely on his own. He needs SAM, needs the AI to survive in Heleus, to live in general. The AI is too much a part of him, the implant too vital to both of their existences. He’s shut off a part of himself, no matter how much he wants to deny that reality.

He shudders, chokes “SAM?” and his body folds beneath him, tumbling to the platform.

Dimly, on the private channel, he hears: _[ Scott? I am sorry ]_

 

* * *

 

The tunnel is longer than SAM let on. She teases the AI for not reading a digital schematic properly, and she imagines it sounds slightly put out for being wrong. She’s more discouraged that she hasn’t come across any physical trace of Scott yet. She’s found his footsteps, so she knows he’s come this way, but, she’s worried.

_[ Pelassaria? ]_

“Yes, SAM?”

_[ Scott has stopped running ]_

“What does that mean?”

_[ He is no longer ignoring me ]_

“I’m amazed he tried,” she mutters.

_[ Indeed ]_

“Sorry, SAM.”

_[ His heartrate is still elevated, but his neuropathways are unstable ]_

_I have to get to him._ “That seizure Lexi worried about?”

 _[ No ]_ She hears the barest hint of hesitation in the AI’s tone.

“Any clues to point me to him?”

_[ Please proceed to the end of the corridor ]_

She frowns. “SAM, if he’s not ignoring you, does that mean he’s talking to you?”

_[ No, he has not said a word ]_

She sighs. “You big jerk,” she mutters, “where _are_ you?”

_[ Pelassaria, fifty meters ahead ]_

She lifts her head, follows the AI’s instructions. She almost walks into the wall she was certain Scott would run into. She scolds SAM for not warning her.

_[ Above you ]_

She sees the shadow of a catwalk, a body sprawled on the grating. She finds the ladder leading up, scrambles to ascend, and finds Scott, half-conscious, eyes dull, breathing shallowly, sweat-soaked from his run. His skin is cool to the touch, and he does not react to her. “SAM!” she shouts, crouching over Scott, rolling him onto his back. “SAM, you need to contact Lexi, tell her where we are, and—”

_[ A moment, Pelassaria ]_

She’s panicking, looking him over. They do not have a moment. She’s about to order the AI to do as she says, damn it, or else, but Scott groans, blinking slowly, coming back to awareness. She hesitantly runs her hand along his face. He looks at her, his eyes far away, but he speaks, hoarsely, “Hey.”

“Hey, you,” she says, cradling his head.

“You’re here.”

“Yeah, of course.” She blinks, feels a film of tears over her eyes, grimaces. “You dummy,” she mutters, “what were you doing? You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says, and she can see pain behind his eyes.

She strokes his hair. “Can you stand?”

“Inaminute,” he slurs.

 _[ I advise slow movements ]_ SAM suggests.

Scott groans again. “Too quiet,” he says. “S’ry, SAM.”

_[ You should be monitored, Pathfinder ]_

He nods weakly. He blinks bleary eyes at Peebee. “Help me back?” he requests.

She helps him stand. His feet are unsteady, but he rests a hand on her shoulder for stability. SAM guides them down the corridor, out of the maintenance area, into the wider Nexus.

 _“_ There _you are,”_ Lexi’s voice echoes over the comm, and Scott flinches at the volume, while Peebee gently chides, “Hey, Lexi, maybe keep it down a bit. Ryder’s got a killer headache.”

 _“Of course, he does,_ ” Lexi growls, _“because that’s what happens when you concuss yourself by falling into a stack of crates. Don’t you dare contradict me, Scott Ryder.”_

“Not concussed,” Scott manages.

 _“I’m on my way,”_ Lexi says, and Scott sees her walking towards them. Her furious expression softens almost immediately when she sees them, and he manages a weary smile. “Can we get back to the ship before you yell at me?” he asks, struggling to finish the sentence.

 _[ That would be best ]_ SAM opines for the three of them to hear.

Lexi sighs. “Let’s go,” she says.

Peebee smiles optimistically at Scott as Lexi leads the way. “See?” Peebee chirps. “She’s not mad.”

“Not at you,” Scott says.

Peebee catches the exhaustion in his voice. “Hey,” she says quietly, “let’s talk tonight. Let her yell at you, then I can just scold you.”

“Good times,” he mutters.

She laughs, and helps him back to the ship.

 

* * *

 

 

Lexi checks her scans, looking over readings, and concludes that what he needs is rest, not more running. “You know,” she says, calmer now, as he lies back on the med bay bed, allowing the scan to finish, “you could have killed yourself.”

“I figured that part out,” he says, his voice still hoarse.

“I should have seen this,” she says. “Just how closely you and SAM are linked. It’s… there’s no precedent for this, no literature. It’s… he’s… a part of you, he might well _be_ you in some aspect.”

Scott doesn’t argue. “I know,” he says softly. “I figured it out after the Remnant city.” He turns his head, looks at her. “We’re one unit, we’re different than the other Pathfinders.”

“And what happens when we need a new human Pathfinder?” she asks him, her voice low.

He shrugs. “I… think they’ll have to get on without a SAM. Or at least not this SAM.”

_[ I agree. The implant is integrated well beyond its original intent. While I do not feel pain, I have learned loss ]_

“I’m sorry, SAM. It won’t happen again.”

_[ Dr. T’Perro, my scans indicate that physical functions have returned to normal. Will my analysis be sufficient for your records? ]_

“I feel better,” Scott adds. “Thirsty, but better.”

Lexi folds her arms. “I should run another scan.”

“Lexi. I am fine.”

_[ I can confirm, Lexi ]_

Lexi sighs, exhausted by them. “There are asari who study philosophy, the concept of the soul and the body, where does one end and the other begin, that sort of thing. They’d say you and SAM are a singular being, that you’ve adapted to one another so thoroughly, you can’t be separated. We’ve already seen what happens you’re forced apart, and now…”

“I won’t shut him out again,” Scott insists.

“I believe you.” She looks at the computer readouts. “Fine. No more scans. You can sit up now.”

He does so, slowly. He presses the heel of his hand against his forehead.

“headache?”

“Yeah. I’ll get some water. I’ll be fine.”

“I suppose I should be grateful you’re not going straight to coffee.” It’s meant as a joke, but she can see from his expression that he’s not in a humorous mood.

“Scott,” she says his name directly, forcefully.

He looks at her.

“You need to sleep,” she tells him. “Just sleep. SAM can go silent while you sleep, isn’t that right, SAM?”

 _[ I can operate in a low-power mode]_ Privately, the AI adds: _[ I am sorry, Scott ]_

He waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, SAM. I’m fine.”

“You,” Lexi scolds, “say those words far too often, and I know they’re not true.”

“Would _you_ be fine?” he shoots back.

She purses her lips, frustrated. “You need to stop for a few days,” she tells him. “Doctor’s orders, and, so help me, I will tell SAM to keep you in one spot, am I clear?”

He glares at her.

SAM pipes up: _[ Lexi, we have discussed the ethics of my utilizing Scott’s body without his consent. You have expressed objections in the past. It would not benefit any of us to rescind that objection now ]_

Lexi fixes Scott with her sternest look. “Sleep, rest. No running, no working out – don’t let Liam talk you into it, because I will find out, and when I do, there will be hell to pay – no planet-siding, no Nexus, no nothing. Do you understand? Just stay put. For two days. That is all I’m asking.” She sighs, feeling the fight go out of her. “Please, Scott,” she says. “If not for yourself, then for everyone on board. Just, please take better care of you. You’re the only one we have.”

Scott’s shoulders slump, and he leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Did you know Dad was a weightlifter? He hated running, said he got enough of it in the military. When Mom was sick, when he was working on SAM, he barely slept, so he worked out after hours. He was angry, frustrated, stressed, and he didn’t stop. He’d keep going until he dropped… Hah.” He sniffles, swipes a hand across his face. “I’m more like him than I like to admit.”

Lexi smiles. “You’re still here, though, Scott. This crew needs you. If you need motivation, use us. We’ll have your back through anything, but, we need you to keep being you.”

He rakes a hand back through his hair. “And what am I if I’ve got an AI buried in my head so deep that I don’t know where I end and he begins?”

Lexi looks thoughtful. “What if you don’t end, and you’re both just beginning?”

He glances up at the ceiling. “SAM?”

_[ It is a philosophical question, but also a literal existential one. Without you, I am only data; without me, you are only human ]_

“But we already know what happens if I don’t have you.”

_[ We do ]_

“So, what happens to you if you don’t have me?”

_[ Unknown ]_

Lexi looks from the ceiling to Scott and back again. “I think you two have some things to work out,” she says. “If you need to talk – _either_ of you – I’ll be here.”

Scott smiles faintly. “I think she’s got us there, SAM.”

_[ I learn from experience and interaction. Perhaps psychology is not a wasted science ]_

“Wait,” Lexi protests, “who called psychology a waste?”

_[ Alec did not believe psychology held the answers, as it is too theoretical and, in his opinion, ignorant of realities. He believed neurobiology was more valuable ]_

Lexi rolls her eyes. “Of _course_ he would say that.”

Scott laughs softly. “Sara took a psych class when she was prepping for her xenoarchaeology digs. Dad never let her hear the end of it. He hated psychology.”

“You know, psychological interviewing for high risk professions is normal in the turian culture,” Lexi says. “Making sure all the mental parts are working correctly.”

 _[ Alec believed Alliance psychologists ignored personal boundaries and intellectual pursuits in the interest of meeting quotas ]_ The AI sounds almost smug.

Lexi makes a frustrated sound.

Scott raises a pacifying hand. “Tell you what, Doc,” he says, “let’s meet once a week, talk, maybe find the beginning and end. It’ll benefit both SAM and me.”

 _[ Agreed ]_ the AI says.

Lexi shakes her head. “That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said in weeks.” She waves a hand at him. “Now get to your quarters. Rest. You’re grounded for two days, Pathfinder Ryder, don’t you forget it.”

He smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t you start that with me,” she says. “Get going.” She points at the door. “SAM? Please feed me neural data when he’s sleeping.”

“Don’t trust me, Doc?”

“No, I trust you, but I want to see if I can untangle a few identity webs.” She shrugs. “Pure neurobiological interest, you understand.”

 _[ Tonal analysis indicates Dr. T’Perro’s tone is mocking. Is this humor? ]_ SAM asks.

Scott laughs. “Yes, SAM. Lexi just told a joke.”

_[ My humor parameters may require more exposure to varied sources. Lexi, please explain the nature of the joke ]_

Lexi stares at Scott, baffled. “Is… you taught SAM jokes?”

“That’s all Dad. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, hell.” Lexi shakes her head. “Fine. I can’t believe I’m about to have this conversation.”

“I’ll see myself out.”

“To your room, Pathfinder. Sleep.”

He laughs as he walks out, and she smiles, content that he will be fine.

“Now, SAM, let’s talk about wordplay…”

 

* * *

 

 

In his quarters, he dims the lights, and collapses on the bed. He glances at the treadmill, and hears SAM on their private channel: _[ Please do not ]_

“Don’t worry. I think my legs would give out before I could get a mile.”

_[ That has not stopped you before ]_

He smiles. “No, it hasn’t.” He raises his eyebrows. “I thought you were talking to Lexi.”

_[ I am able to divide my attention, though I am concerned that Dr. T’Perro’s concept of humor is vastly different than your father’s ]_

“Ouch,” Scott says.

_[ Are you in pain? ]_

“No, but Lexi might be if she ever hears that assessment.”

_[ Perhaps if we work together ]_

“An asari and AI comedy routine. It’ll be a hit.”

_[ Novelty acts often are ]_

“That’s brutal, SAM.”

_[ Clarify? ]_

“Ah, self-deprecating.”

_[ Understood. I will update my tonal analysis settings ]_

Scott laughs. He appreciates the AI’s dry-as-dust delivery. It reminds him, in many ways, of his father.

He half-sits, leaning back on his elbows. “I’m sorry, SAM. For shutting you out. I needed some time to myself, and, I thought I could do that without you.” He sighs. “Seems I can’t do much of anything without you.”

_[ I am sorry, as well ]_

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

_[ I have taken over too much of your implant. I did not consider the ramifications of doing so. I was caught up in experiences, the chaotic nature of our goals. By the time I realized how deep our connection truly was, we were near Meridian ]_

Scott shivers. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I remember.”

_[ I am sorry I could not spare you that pain ]_

“He ripped you out of my head.” He sits up fully. “I _died_ , SAM. Twice now, I’ve died. It’s… I don’t know how to explain that to you.”

_[ I have experienced death ]_

Scott sucks in a breath. _Dad._

_[ And you have died three times ]_

“On Habitat 7,” Scott murmurs, “the flagship, and the Remnant city.”

He lies flat on the bed, one hand resting on his chest, staring at the ceiling.

“What am I, SAM?” he whispers. “Humans aren’t supposed to come back from death.”

_[ I am not convinced that you are entirely human any longer ]_

“You said, without you, I’m only human.”

_[ What is it to be human, Scott? ]_

Scott smiles faintly. “Haven’t figured it out yet?”

_[ No ]_

His smile fades. “Me, neither.” He raises one hand, splays his fingers, stares through them. “I’ve been running since we left Earth, running to a galaxy six hundred years from home. We’ve been running around Heleus, trying to save it.”

_[ We did save it ]_

“So, who saves us?”

_[ I do not understand ]_

“You and me,” Scott wonders, “who saves you and me?”

_[ I trust you, Scott. I am sorry if I have taken advantage of our experiences ]_

“You gave as much as I did.” He flexes his extended fingers. “With you, I can almost touch the stars.”

 _[ We are in space ]_ the AI states.

Scott smiles. “That we are.”

He hears his comm beep. He keys the response. “Yes?”

 _“Hey,”_ Peebee says. _“You up?”_

“For you, always.”

 _“Flirt,”_ she teases. _“Mind some company?”_

“Door’s open.”

 _[ Would you prefer to be alone? ]_ SAM asks privately.

Scott nods. “Don’t go too far, just… maybe you need some rest too.”

_[ I will operate in low-power mode ]_

“Thanks, SAM.”

The door slides open, and Scott feels a whisper in his ears, in his mind, as SAM fades into the background, not gone, but dim, at the edge of hearing, and he turns his full attention to another.

 

* * *

 

Peebee strolls into his room, sits down on the edge of the bed. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” he admits, “but fine.”

“Yeah, Lexi said you’d say ‘fine,’” Peebee says, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t I look fine?”

“You _always_ look fine.” She kicks her boots off, scoots up the bed, lifts his head to rest it in her lap. “You look better,” she confirms. “A little pale, but better.”

“I’m just tired,” he protests.

“Yeah,” she says, trailing her hand through his hair. He half closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. “I was scared,” she says. “A little.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “But only a little.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” She says the words firmly enough that he knows she’s being serious.

He smiles, but his eyelids flutter wearily, his exhaustion finally catching up to him. She rests her fingertips against his temples, applies gentle pressure, pulling her fingers back through his hair, pressing carefully against the slowly-abating tension. He groans softly, closing his eyes, leaning into her hands. She works her fingers to the back of his skull, cradles his head, presses her thumbs gently into the space where his neck and head meet, finds a small point of tension and sets about massaging it away.

“So,” she says, “I was thinking, since you’re stuck in here for two days, and I know you’ll be stir-crazy within two hours, that we should do something fun. Nothing destructive, don’t worry, just, something to keep us entertained. Liam’s movie night was all right – do you know if angara make movies? If they do, we need to watch one - but, we need something more exciting. I mean, I could show you a few tricks with tech, and you could show me some of yours…”

She looks down at his face, finally relaxed, fast asleep, his body and mind finally giving up the fight. Without him conscious to argue, she can study him freely, run her fingers along his cheekbones and jaw, feel his breath against her skin. She eases into her own meditation, that blissful absence of thought, relaxed and carefree with him beside her. She sits with him for an hour until he mumbles something – it sounds like _Dad_ – and she decides she won’t have to worry too much about him for the next two days.

She untangles from him, leans over to kiss his cheek. She gathers her boots and tiptoes to the door. She pauses a moment, calls out softly, “Hey, SAM?”

 _[ Yes, Pelassaria? ]_ The AI’s voice is equally soft.

She half-expects Scott to react, but he remains asleep, unaware. She smiles, relieved. She only understands a little about the bond between the man and the AI, but she knows enough to recognized that they’re more _one_ than they are _two,_ a potentially dangerous fusion in any other person. She trusts both, though, and in the favor she’s about to ask, the AI is the only person on the ship she can rely on:

“Would you keep an eye on him? If he wakes up, let me know.”

_[ I will ]_

She smiles, rests her hand on the door. It hisses open, the exterior lighting low and modulated for dark. She glances over her shoulder. Scott hasn’t moved.

_Good. Rest. Two days isn’t so long. We’ll be back out there before you know it._

_[ Good night, Pelassaria ]_

“G’night, SAM.”

She closes the door, heads to her pod. Suvi and Kallo are both asleep, the bridge is empty. She enjoys the silence, and steps into her little home, closes the door. She curls up on the pile of blankets, gives POC a cheerful “Good night, POC”, and heads for dreamland.

 

* * *

 

Scott dreams.

First of Earth: _The perfect trail, just two miles from the house; jagged roots, mud, rocks, and two boulder scrambles that he knows of. This trail takes at least six hours, round trip. It’s his favorite trail, the one he knows instinctively, the one he’s sought to conquer, to never be afraid of._

_He’s got water, a few snacks, his comm if something happens, and the silence. The blissful silence of his own thoughts and the world, without the weight of the empty house. On the trail, he hears nothing but the world around him, his own beating heart, and the crunch of leaves and trail dirt beneath his feet._

_The trail saves his sanity. Mom is sick, dying, and he can’t save her. He’s not a physician; neither is Dad, though he’s damn sure trying. Sara takes better care of Mom than anyone, reading to her, brushing her hair, telling her stories of the things she’s seen out in the Traverse._

_Scott runs. It’s the one thing he’s good at doing, according to his father, that bitter accusation during their most recent argument. “Running away is all you do. It’s amazing you ever get anywhere.”_

_He runs. It’s the last time he ever runs that trail._

Then of the _Hyperion_ , before the long sleep:

_Sara hugs him. They’re the last wave to enter cryo. She hugs him, teases him – “See you in six hundred years, little brother” – and she goes into the cryo-chamber before him. She’s braver than he is, smarter, the one his father treasures. She’s just like Dad._

_He waits until nearly everyone else is asleep. The last tech patiently waits for him. Scott stares at the small coffin –_ cryo-pod _, the technician has corrected him several times – and can’t quite bring himself to go in._

_A hand on his shoulder. He looks, sees Dad, looming, a softness in his expression, something Scott has never seen before. “I’m right here, son,” Dad rumbles. “I’ll keep watch.”_

_“Who’s going to watch out for you?” Scott can’t help retorting._

_“Well, in six hundred years, Scottie, I think it’ll be you.”_

_He frowns. He hasn’t been ‘Scottie’ since he was eight. “Dad…”_

_Dad shakes his head, gently pushes him forward. “I’ll be right here,” he says again._

_Scott sits in the pod, exhales, startled, when the lid closes over him. Dad looks down at him, rests a hand on the glass. Scott stares up, the last thing he clearly sees are his father’s watery eyes._ Strange, _Scott thinks as he falls into the cryo-void,_ I’ve never seen Dad cry…

The nightmare, Habitat-7, after the blast, as he suffocates in an airless void:

_Dad limps towards him._

_The air is gone. His faceplate shattered, the air gone in an instant. There’s no air._

_He can’t run from this. There’s no outrunning it._

_He weakly raises his head. Dad is in front of him, speaking, and Scott can only watch with blurring, fading vision as Dad takes his helmet off, locks it over Scott’s head, and gives the order to transfer Pathfinder authority._

_“Dad – what – what are you-?” he chokes, air filtering through his lungs, but he watches Dad fall, and he’s right behind him, dying on an alien world, far from Earth, far from the trail, long gone from the coffin/cryo-pod he’s spent six hundred years sleeping in, far away from his sister, who will never know what happened and will be on this journey alone now._

Mom _, his last brutal thoughts._ Mom. I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep running.

_He can’t run from death. No one can outrun death._

 

* * *

 

Scott jerks awake, bolts up, gasping for breath, his heart racing, his mind afire with memories, flashes of childhood, Earth, Andromeda, the angara, the Remnant, the Archon—

He presses a hand to his mouth, feeling sick.

_[ Scott, there is water beside your bed ]_

Trembling, he reaches for the glass, drinks it down, manages not to spill. He groans, stands from the bed, walks to the couch. He collapses, leaning his head back. “How long was I asleep?” he asks, voice strained.

_[ Nearly 30 hours. It is 1900 hours now ]_

“Guess I needed it.”

_[ You did not sleep well ]_

“Not at the end there, no.”

Scott rubs his neck, stands. He looks at the treadmill. _A run. Just a short one. I just need to run a mile, and –_

_[ In your current state, running will not make you feel better ]_

Scott snorts. “Says you.”

_[ Your legs are barely supporting you at the moment. I recommend you sit ]_

Scott shakes head, amused, and does as the AI suggests.

_[ Tell me of your favorite trail ]_

Scott looks at the AI’s glowing orb on his desk. “My favorite trail?”

_[ There are roots, rocks, dirt, mud, and trees. I see flashes of it when you sleep; when you need to be calm. It is a special place for you ]_

“Yeah,” he says softly, “yeah it was.”

_[ Do you believe it is still there? ]_

“I hope so.”

_[ It is a beautiful place. I think you could have taught me much from that trail ]_

Scott smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we could’ve learned a lot from each other there. There were birds up there – hawks, a few falcons, songbirds – and there was a creek at the fourth-mile marker. I could watch the fish.”

_[ Was there danger? ]_

“Only the occasional cougar, maybe a bear. If I saw them, I went right back home.”

_[ Alec was like a bear ]_

Scott’s breath hitches. _Yes; yes, he was._

_[ Alec would ask me: why does he run? Why does he flee from all things? Why can he not stay in one place and face the world? Why does he run away from everything? ]_

Scott says nothing.

_[ If I could tell him now, I believe I would have an answer ]_

“Which is?”

 _[ You are running_ toward _something bigger than yourself. You never ran away. You pursued. You did not flee ]_

Scott swallows. “Thanks, SAM.”

_[ Alec would be proud of you, Scott. I knew him well enough to say so. He would envy you the trails ahead of you ]_

“What about the paths?”

_[ A Pathfinder must seek those as well, but, in your case, you must find a trail first ]_

“Trails branch, you know.”

_[ So do paths, Scott ]_

Scott smiles. “I suppose we still have work to do, don’t we, SAM?”

 _[ We do ]_ the AI affirms _[ For what is a Pathfinder without their SAM? ]_

Scott rests his hand beside the AI’s portal on the desk. “What’s a Pathfinder without his friend?”

_[ Thank you, Scott ]_

He sits in his chair. “So, you want to know about that trail, huh?”

The AI projects a matrix into the air in front of them. It reflects a rocky path, trees on each side, assorted roots and ivies breaking up the landscape. Scott squints. “No, it was wider than that. I saw people running three across.”

The imagine alters, widening.

“The trees weren’t so dense at the start. It was more open prairie.”

The trees thin, a meadow branches out.

“There were blackberry brambles on one side. Yeah, like that.” Scott settles back, relaxing. “There’s a stream, four miles down.”

_[ You told me earlier ]_

“I can almost hear it.”

_[ Close your eyes, Scott. Show me the memory ]_

Scott does. He can hear the stream, feel the ground beneath his feet, smell the clean air. He inhales, the chill of early morning filling his lungs.

He takes a tentative step.

_[ Run, Scott. I will not be far ]_

 

* * *

Scott dreams:

_He takes a step, then another, a steady pace. He hears birds arguing over head, the soft grunting of a deer in the brambles. He ignores them, focused on the trail._

_He feels a presence beside him, sees the flicker of a figure, one that mirrors his movements, a partner in his mind alone._

[ I hope you do not mind company ]

_He smiles._

_“Come on, SAM,” he says. “Let me show you something you’ve never seen before.”_

_The trail is before them, an old path for Scott, a new one for SAM._

_After all, what is a Pathfinder without his friend?_

_The End_


End file.
